


Icarus

by angel_red



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Battery City, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, literally heartbreaking to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29863824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_red/pseuds/angel_red
Summary: Pre-killjoy life, living in the City. Kobra Kid and Cherri Cola were careful, quiet. But it never was enough.
Relationships: Agent Cherri Cola/Kobra Kid (Danger Days)
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> references: the tale of icarus; sonnet 18

“We’re all the stars in the sky,” I tell him. I describe those same stars he’s never seen, the City lights blotting out the tiny pinpricks of light I’d fallen in love with as a six-year-old, through my bedroom window. “The heavens can’t hardly touch you, love.”  
He laughs at that, elbowing me in the ribs. “How poetic,” he snorts, “where’d you read that? One of your illegal books?”  
“I mean it,” I murmur, serious. We’re sitting in his bed, the blank white sheets wrapped around warm, flushed bodies. “I read this story, once, about this boy who fell in love with the Sun.”  
“Let me guess - I’m the boy? Climbing too high? You’re full of it.”  
“You’re the Sun,” I reply, taking his face and running my hands through his pale blond hair. He closes his eyes, a pleased smile playing across his face at this. “And you know how the story ended?”  
“No.” He knows exactly how it ends - I’ve told him before. He’s merely playing along, his eyes dancing with humor.  
“He flew to touch the Sun, and he got too close. His wings fell apart, and he fell into the sea and died.”  
“How romantic.”  
I straighten up, the blankets falling away. “No, love. He loved the Sun so much he was willing to give up his life for that. I think it’s wonderful.”  
“Of course you do, you fucking sap.” He brings his hand up to my jaw, pulling me into a kiss. He’s like stardust, running through my veins. Iron and heat and kisses that keep on drawing me in, even though I’m running absurdly late at this point.  
Oh, what the hell. I kiss him back, and we fall back onto the mattress, his hands tangled in my hair and a gasping whisper that I manage to squeeze out - Icarus, the name of the boy who flew too close to the Sun. Me. And this bleached-blond boy with the crooked fingers and the raspy laugh with his head on the pillow, his golden hair making a halo around his head, just like the fucking angel he is, is the fucking Sun. He smiles up at me, teasing slightly, his eyebrow crooked in an unasked question, and I answer it with my mouth.  
Heat is practically radiating off of him, his cheeks flushed and his brown eyes warm and bright. He reaches his hand up and brushes my jaw with his thumb, tracing the line where it connects to my neck over and over. He’s so fucking beautiful.  
So fucking beautiful. I kiss him again, his eyes sticking shut this time, and lean back a few inches, admiring everything about this beautiful boy spread out on wrinkled white sheets, pale skin spotted with moles and freckles, his chest heaving as he takes deep breaths in an effort to regulate his blush (it isn’t working, but it’s so damn cute), his fucking wonderful arms, pulling me closer, tugging at my hips, crooked fingers and knobby knuckles, full, flushed, chapped pink lips, parted slightly as he breathes out and in, long eyelashes fluttering as I lean in to kiss him again, pushing his hair back from his forehead…  
“You’re flying too high, Icarus,” he teases, wrapping his arms around my neck as I kiss him harder. “You’re gonna get burned,” he half-sings.  
“Oh, shut up,” I groan, and lean in one more time.


	2. Chapter 2

He stands on the balcony, cigarette balanced between his fingers. They aren’t illegal, per se, but discouraged. So naturally, he smokes like a chimney.  
“Hey,” I say, standing next to him. He’s wearing my sweatpants. I’m wearing his shirt. Together, we make one whole outfit.  
“Hey.” He shakes ash off the balcony, gray flecks blowing away in the breeze. We’re higher up than I realized, looking down. The cars and people below look like toys - mere props in a child’s playhouse. The wind whips at our clothes, and I hug his shirt tighter around my chest. “Cold?” He asks me, looking up. He’s not cold at all - his cheeks are still flushed with red. I take a moment to delight in the fact I have that effect on him.  
“Not really.” I climb up on the rail that keeps him from plummeting to his death, kicking my legs over the side. “Nice up here.”  
“If you like cityscapes,” he wrinkles his nose, sticking the cigarette in between his teeth and taking my arm. “Get down. You’re gonna fall.”  
I lean back, hooking my bare feet around the metal of the railing. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Cool cats like me have nine lives.”  
“Not a laughing matter.” He sets the cigarette in the glass ashtray on the railing and tugs at my arm. “Down.”  
“Say please.”  
He sighs, but I can see a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Pretty please with cherries on top, could you get down? The last occupant of this apartment fell and…” He mimes a splattering motion with his hands. “Dead on the spot. You know I care about you too much to watch you go splat.”  
I swivel to face him, pulling his face into my chest and wrapping my legs around him in a weird kind of hug. “Aw, you do care.”  
“‘Course I do,” he laughs into my chest, fistfuls of white fabric tugging me down gently. I land back on the concrete, up against him against the glass of the screen door. “Hiya.”  
“Hiya,” he smiles back, broad and perfect. It’s all I could do to not knock him over in another kiss. He smells like ash and warm fabric, the skin of his hands impossibly soft where his palms curl around my shoulder blades. “Oh!” Surprise crosses his face, his perfect mouth parting in a perfect O shape. “I have a present for you. I just remembered.”  
I let him take my hand and lead me through his apartment, past the unmade bed, the bathroom with my toothbrush next to his, the front door with my sneakers kicked off by it, the living room with my jacket on the couch and the television blaring another propaganda segment. He wrinkles his nose as we pass it, taking the remote and switching the TV off.


	3. Chapter 3

“Okay, cover your eyes.” He’s practically breathless from the effort it takes him not to laugh, and the last thing I see before he covers my eyes is his grinning face, still flushed and warm. “No peeking!”  
“Sweetheart, you know I hate surprises.” He leads me through another room, doing his very best not to knock me into furniture.  
“Okay. You can open your eyes now.” He lets go of my arm, standing by the kitchen counter with his arms outstretched. “What do you think?”  
I take in the scene slowly - a nondescript white box sitting on the counter, him standing next to it with a stupid grin. “Well… It matches the decor,” I smile, picking up the box and pulling the tape that kept it shut off. “What’s in it?”  
“Babe, you have it in your hands. Open it.”  
I push the lid open, knowing that I’m grinning like an idiot. “Oh! For me?” I turn, looking to him for confirmation. He’s smiling right back, looking nervous.  
“You like it? I had to pull a few strings, but -”  
“Are you kidding me?” I laugh, pulling him into a quick kiss. “This is amazing! I - I don’t know what to say.”  
He takes the badge out of the box, handing it to me. “Say you’ll take the job? That way we can work together, and -”  
“Of course I’ll take the job, sweetheart.” I examine the badge with my name on it in solid black letters, a nondescript Battery City logo - the smiley face that always creeped me out as a kid. “What is it - modeling? Doing advertisements?”  
“Yup.” He smiles sheepishly, hooking his fingers in my shirt collar and kissing me softly. “I told ‘em how you’d moved here as a kid, and you’ve grown to love it.” He leans back, eyebrows raised, looking for confirmation. “You do love it, right?”  
“I love you, and you’re here,” I reply. “Is that enough?” The gravity of the words ‘I love you’ hit me, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Either he’s masking his emotions, or he just hasn’t registered what I said… I hope he hasn’t heard. I hope he reciprocates those feelings… No matter our circumstances.  
“Enough for me.” He kisses me again, taking the badge and hooking it to my belt loop. “I know you hate the propaganda, and so do I…”  
“...But I’ll have to say how awesome the City is and how everyone should live here?” I finish his thought, sighing. “Yeah. Well. I’ll be out of here before my words convince anybody, anyway.”  
He pulls back, surprised. “Out of here? You mean the City?”  
“Yeah. You - I thought I told you. I’m goin’ to find my sister. We talked about it, didn’t we?”  
His expression reveals that we did not, in fact, talk about it.  
“Shit, babe. I - I thought we talked about it…?”  
He shakes his head, his eyes wide and full of some emotion I couldn’t quite place - disappointment, I wager. I disappoint everyone in the end… Or I run away before it could happen. Somehow, I’ve done both this time.  
Clearing his throat, he tries for a smile. “Well, no time like the present, right? Then - then you can explain why the hell you’re leaving me here to go chase after a dead woman.”  
Oh, that stings. “I wasn’t going to leave you here. And she’s not dead.”  
“So you - you what? You planned to invite me along on your stupid little quest to find someone who’s either dead or one of those -” His face crumples, slightly-sharper-than-normal canine teeth showing as he gasps for air, “- those fucking killjoys? Have you thought that maybe she doesn’t want to see you?”  
“Fuck, babe, you’re not making this easy. I just - listen, I...”  
“That’s all you’ve got to say?” He backs farther away from me, shaking his head. “No. No, you’re not leaving. This is a joke. You’re joking. You can’t seriously fucking leave me alone here.” His face breaks my heart, over and over again.  
It all happens so fast, and I can’t stop. This is how our arguments usually run - something small setting the both of us off, each of us racing to be more hurt than the other. It’s hot and flush, pulses racing and voices growing louder and louder, always ending in tears.  
“I didn’t want to leave you, stupid!” I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes, my throat closing up, but I press on. “I would have gone with you anywhere. I thought… you felt the same.” My head throbs, and I resist the urge to run. I have to stay. He needs to hear this. “You’re the only thing in this place that felt… good. And actually happy, not just a stupid fake.”  
He looks up slightly, his knuckles turning white as he clenches the edge of the counter, but doesn’t say anything.  
I continue, “You made me smile for the first time since I came here, baby. You gave me hope. You taught me to… keep running. Keep living. No matter how hard it got. And…”  
I remember the first time I kissed him, a few months ago. He looks like he’s thinking about it too, his guard slipping for a second.  
It was long after dark then. I’d lost track of time with him, in his apartment. The same apartment we’re in now, but before it was ours.


	4. Chapter 4

We sat on the bed, cross-legged, facing each other.  
“Okay, truth.” He gave me a wicked grin. His hair was longer then - almost too long for Battery City standards. He held a lit cigarette between his crooked fingers, filling the air between us with the scent of smoke and ash.  
“Hmm…” I pretended to think about this one, but the words were balanced on the edge of my tongue, ready to spill out. “Your biggest, greatest, most unachievable dream.”  
“Easy.” The blonde sitting across from me wasn’t that different from the blonde before me in the kitchen now, a bit younger. He has more fear now. His lips quirked up in a smile, revealing his crooked eye-teeth. “Seeing the Zones. No fear, no fighting. Just beauty. And the stars.”  
I’d told him about the stars a million times. He kept coming back to them, asking me the names of the constellations. I considered moving him on to the Zodiac, a more… imprecise branch of the stars. He liked imprecise things. He liked hearing me talk. He was a Leo - the lion. Loyal, ambitious, and, well, attention-seeking at times. Me, a Libra, diplomatic and attentive… but I could be dramatic, just as he could be. We really did match up, didn’t we? I debated launching into another lecture he’d enjoy, then closed my mouth. “Are you sure? Because I recall you drunkenly begging me to describe the taste of real ice cream,” I smiled.  
“I’m sure they’re hoarding ice cream in the Zones,” he smiled right back. “Okay, your turn. Truth or dare.”  
I considered which to choose, coming to a conclusion when he giggled and wobbled half-off the bed, hanging onto me for support. With him teetering on the edge of drunkenness, dares would most likely be risky. “Truth.”  
“Oh, a real brave one here,” he teased, his mouth pulling into a small smile. “Well. Give me a moment to think it up.”  
We weren’t dating yet. Dating was… unheard of among the two of us. He knew, if he followed the line of work the City had lined up for him, he wouldn’t get to love… anyone. And I only loved him.  
“Got it.” He smoothed out the blanket beneath him, his expression guarded. “Tell me about… outside the City.”  
I startled, then leaned in closer to him. I knew he wanted to ask. He’d wanted to ask for years. “Anything specific? Or just in general?”  
“How does -?” He pushed his hair back, running his hands through it lightly. “How does love work out there? Is it like in here?”  
Oh. Oh. Was… is he asking me for love advice? Now it was my turn to run my hands through my hair. I racked my brain, trying to remember. I’d never been… the greatest when it came to love. And my parents were divorced before I was one. But, comparing it to the city, I could see so many differences.  
“You can.”  
“Can… love?” He asked, his expression bewildered. “You can love here.”  
“No, you can’t.” I searched my mind, trying to find a way to relate this to him. Some way that he can understand. “Here… it’s all fake. Nobody really loves each other. The City just says they love each other, and everyone believes it. Back home… you love anyone you want. Whenever you want.”  
He still didn’t get it. I could see it in his eyes.  
I took a deep breath, remembering a story I read in a tattered old book my mother bought me from a library sale. “A long time ago, there was a boy. And he wanted to touch the sun. He assembled wings made out of bronze and wax, and he caught a wind, and he flew to the sun.”  
He was watching me, his attention fixed on me completely. I could almost hear his thoughts - How stupid. The sun is a giant ball of gas. You can’t be in love with a ball of gas.  
I smiled slightly, pressing on. “The boy flew higher and higher, until he was almost touching the sun. And he looked up at that bright life-giver, and he felt so free. He was free, and everything was warm and bright, and the sun loved him back.”  
“And then what?” His voice was soft.  
“He flew too close. The heat from the sun and its brilliant warmth melted the wax binding his wings together. His wings fell apart. Icarus fell to Earth, landing in the sea, and he died.”  
“That’s ridiculous.” He looked indignant. “Love isn’t death.”  
“Love is giving all you have and more,” I answered. “Icarus gave all he had and more.”  
“He gave his life. Would you really do the same, if you were in love?”  
“If it was true? Of course I would.” My heart ached to tell him… He was bright and warm, no matter how displeased with how the story ended he was. He gazed over at me, his hair falling back into his eyes. He had something to say - I could feel it.  
“Are you in love?” He whispered.  
I wasn’t in control of my voice. The word leapt from my lips, unbidden. “Yes.”  
“Am I in love?”  
“Are you?”  
“I don’t know. What does it feel like?”  
I considered this. “Warm. Like the sun. And… scary. Like the sun. But you do it anyway, and you fly up there, and your wings melt and you die, and it was completely worth it all. Because you got to love someone. And they loved you back.”  
He was so close. I could feel his breath on my face, warm and minty. His lips were slightly chapped, his eyelashes long and dark. Suddenly, I was reminded of the calves I helped take care of in 4-H, with big brown eyes that were full of trust and peace. He made this so damn hard.  
I was seriously considering just kissing him, to get it over with, when he reached out and ran his fingers through my hair, stopping at the back of my neck. His eyes fluttered shut, and I braced myself for the inevitable.  
His lips brushed against mine, soft and hesitant. He seemed afraid to move closer, his whole body tensing under my touch. I met him halfway, an unasked question hovering in the little space between us - Is this okay?  
I answered the question myself, closing off the space between us. His lips were chapped, and he smelled like mint and smoke. He was warm, and I wanted more. So much more.  
His hands were tangled in my hair, his cheeks growing redder and redder as I leaned in closer. His breath hitched, catching in his throat, a musical exhale escaping between his lips, into my mouth, and I smiled wide, overcome with reality.  
I was here. On his bed. And he’d just kissed me. We were kissing. Right now. And he was warm, and his skin soft and smooth. And it was technically illegal. This train of thought came to an abrupt halt when he pushed me back, his hands still in my hair and his lips on mine, laying crookedly on my chest. Oh, shit.  
He leaned back slightly, smiling wide. “What are you thinking right now?”  
“Took you long enough,” I rolled my eyes, unable to contain the laughter spilling out of my mouth as he kissed me in reply, stroking my hair away from my forehead.  
“How long?” He asked.  
“Since we met.”  
He turned a lovely shade of crimson, his eyes bright as they raked over my face, like he was seeing me for the first time. “That long, huh,” he breathed, his pulse racing. I could feel his heart beating, matching mine. “I think… me too.”  
“Yeah?” I kissed him again. I couldn’t help it - he was practically magnetic. “A whole year of this bullshit, and neither of us said anything?”  
“It’s not…” He exhaled the words, speaking slowly. I remembered how drunk he was, and a hot flash of fear shot through me - what if he didn’t remember this tomorrow? Would he forget this, and leave it to torture me over and over until I finally did something about it - either kissing him or killing him would most likely relieve my pain. “Not… right.”  
That was unexpected. “Not right?”  
He struggled for words, his hands still framing my face gently. “I… can’t. Like you like that. I got… the offer yesterday. I’m going into the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W program. I can’t… do this with you.”  
I could feel the color leave my face, my skin cold as I imagined the loss of him, right after we finally… “You’re… leaving?”  
“I have to stay for training. And then…” He raked a hand through his hair, his expression distant. “I’ll never see you again.”  
I took a deep breath, trying to regain some control. I took him in my arms, holding him against my chest and stroking his hair like our lives depended on it. “Bullshit,” I whispered. “I’m not letting you go that easy. You can’t kiss me and then expect me to just forget you, you fucking idiot.”  
I could hear his smile in his voice as he replied, soft against the fabric of my shirt. “My bad.”  
I hesitated, then leaned in and kissed his forehead gently, feeling his heartbeat calm in my arms. I didn’t reply, and he stayed similarly silent, the only sound the gentle rain on his windows and the deep pattern of our breaths, perfectly in sync.  
If only I’d seen the storm clouds gathering… then I would have played my cards differently. I’d have stayed far, far away from this boy with the crooked smile, and he’d have been a whole lot happier.


	5. Chapter 5

I come back to the present, feeling unfocused. He’s still facing me, his eyes glittering and his cheeks wet.  
“I love you, too,” he whispers. “I used to think… maybe I just needed a friend. Or someone to listen. But you made me think differently… and you made me feel strong. And I’m sorry I’m the worst.” He gives me another crooked smile, the one I fell in love with a year ago, and I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes as well. I spread my arms, and he falls against me, his arms wrapped around my shoulders tightly, like if he let go he’d lose me forever.  
“You are not the worst,” I reply fiercely, grasping him just as tight in return. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it.”  
He smiles slightly, standing on his tiptoes to kiss my forehead. “You can tell me now.”  
I pull back, sliding my hand into his easily. “Right.”


	6. Chapter 6

He’s curled up on the couch, steaming mug of tea in his hands. His head is nestled against my collarbone, my arm wrapped around his shoulders as I balance a well-worn leather-bound volume in my lap, reading the same poem for the thousandth time. The author’s name is well worn away, and so is the title, but I know all the words on the inside by heart.   
“You’re leaving the City,” he breathes, his voice soft and thick with emotion. “In two days.”  
“Yep,” I exhale, turning the page. It smells like dust and stale ashes, the familiar scent wrapping around me like a warm blanket. “And you have the option to come with me.”  
I can feel his shoulders rise and fall, deep breaths in and out. “How long have you wanted this?” His eyes are fixed on the wall, looking dead ahead.  
“Forever,” I reply, turning the page.   
He rests his head on my chest, his breathing becoming irregular. He’s panicking, and it’s my fault. I put this on him too fast. I should’ve spoken to him earlier… His voice is shaky, sounding thicker and thicker as he asks, “Read to me?”  
“‘Course.” I flip back a page, to the beginning of the poem, and recite, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate…”  
“Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,” he whispers, “and summer’s lease hath all too short a date -”  
“Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,” I murmur, our voices blending together in sync. “And often is his gold complexion dimm’d…”  
“I want to go with you,” he interrupts, his hands pushing the book down. “I’ll go with you. Just… we stay together.” He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting mine. He’s so warm and delicate; I hate to hurt him like this. I squeeze his hand gently, pressing a kiss to his temple.   
“Baby, you don’t have to. I’ll stay. I’d rather be with you than be anywhere else.”  
“Me too,” he smiles, his eyes glimmering. “So I’ll go with you. Because you’ll be happy. And we’ll be free. And you can look for your sister.”  
“Are you sure?” I wind my fingers in his hair, untangling it gently. “I can stay, and you can work here, and I’ll take that job -”  
“Sunshine.” He leans back into my touch, his lips parting in a smile. “You and I both know that none of that will make you happy. And when you’re unhappy...I’m unhappy.”  
I let out a sigh, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time. “Okay.”  
“C’mon.” He sits up, reaching for my hands and helping me up with him. “I want to -”

A knock at the apartment door. Once, twice. He shoots me a puzzled look. We weren’t expecting anyone...This is bad.  
Rumors and half-formed ideas swirl in my head, and I can see that he’s coming to the same conclusion. We made a mistake.


	7. Chapter 7

Reconditioning.  
When you break the rules of the city, they Recondition you. I’ve been Reconditioned before. The black tally mark on my wrist says as much. It’s hard to explain… but it’s terrifying. They come to your home. They arrest you, and hurt you, and make your family watch. Then… they take you to Reconditioning. And they take out the parts of you that are good and kind and stand up for what’s right, and they put in medication and shame and guilt. They give you a tattoo, like the brand of a murderer in the books. It’s going to happen to me. And it’s going to happen to him.   
He’s too beautiful to be fucked over like that. I won’t let it happen.  
“Go to my room,” he hisses, reaching for his shirt. “Stay quiet, okay?” His eyes are fearful, but he takes a deep breath and his smile finds its place. “I’ll take care of this.” He kisses my cheek quickly, then pushes me away. “Go.”  
I comply, my head foggy. What did we do? Of course… dating was really unheard of… And all our talk about leaving… Fuck. I did this.   
It’s my fault this is happening. And he’s going to get Reconditioned, and he’ll… forget himself. And me. The train of thought running through my head hits me like a heavy ocean wave, slamming into my chest over and over until I fall under the surf and drown.   
Oh, Icarus, what did you do?  
I can hear voices in the hallway, and I strain to hear, but they’re muffled and hushed. Footsteps. The floorboards creaking.  
And then a shout, twisted with agony. My name.  
“MICAH!” It’s his voice, distorted through sobs.   
I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t stay hidden. I have to… help.   
We were going to go to the Zones. And we were going to find my sister. And I was going to drive, and he was going to learn to play an instrument. I was going to read to him. He was going to dye his hair a million different colors. I was going to teach him to dance, with music this time. He’d meet my sister, and they’d get along famously because they’re really so much alike… We’d get out of these white t-shirts and perfectly pressed pants, and we’d be… Happy.  
He needs to escape. He needs to get out. I don’t care about the stupid Zones, or my fucking sister, or anything else. I just - I need him to be safe. I need to know that he’s going to be alright… and that he’ll stay perfect. And beautiful, and full of happiness and life and all the things that I first fell in fucking love with, and the jokes and the crooked fingers and the uncaring demeanor of a man who has nothing to lose that I stay for. Every day, I stay for him.  
I can see the hallway now. The door is open. He’s standing at the opposite end of the hall, right across from me, his jaw bruised and tears pouring down his face. My heart threatens to burst - with love or with anger, I can’t quite tell. He’s hurt. They hurt him, and it’s my fucking fault. Two white-shirted agents hold his arms behind his back.   
“I told you to go,” he whispers. I can hear his shuddering breaths, clear as if they were right beside me. “Go. They’re - you have to go. Find your sister. Get out of here.”  
I stand my ground, moving towards him slowly. He’s always been a magnet, drawing me in. The sun. “I’m not leaving you. This is for both of us. I can’t let go of you now.”  
“You’re so stupid,” he cries, a hysterical laugh bubbling from his lips. “I’ll get Reconditioning. You’ll get killed.”   
I can see the barrel of an agent’s gun, raised to my forehead. He’s right. I’ll be dead in a few seconds. But he’ll… He’ll live. And he’ll escape someday. And he’ll survive, and he’ll miss me, but that’s alright. It’s alright. It’s okay. You’ll live on. You’ll stay. And you’ll see the stars someday, okay? My voice is failing me. I’m inches away from him, the gun getting closer and closer. I reach for him, and he sinks into my touch, his head cradled in my arms. He’s so beautiful, his body warm and shaking under my hands. His warm brown eyes, golden and soft, are red-rimmed with tears. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. More than the stars. More than a sunset. More than smoke and foggy glass and rain pattering against car windows. More than a twelve-year-old who thought he wouldn’t like anybody here. More than a lanky blonde boy who helped me unpack, cause we’re neighbors now, and that’s what neighbors do. More than two teenagers pressed up against each other in the misty cold of the streets, hurrying home after watching a droid who was nothing but kind to us fall, rusted limbs creaking and coming to a stop. More than all the memories of freedom I couldn’t quite let go. We were so young. And he’s so beautiful. And no amount of time I had with him was enough.   
“So long as men breathe or eyes can see,” I murmur, our foreheads touching now.  
He chokes out a laugh, fresh tears welling up in his eyes. “So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”  
The agent’s gun presses to my temple, cold and dark. I hear a bang, the shock reverberating in my bones, and everything goes black.


End file.
